


relapse.

by zenrei



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, our boy has lots of depression(tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13630044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenrei/pseuds/zenrei
Summary: Saeyoung suffers another of what he likes to call a guilt attack, and for the first time he isn't alone.





	relapse.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this mostly to vent but i desperately want more choi content hehe

The guilt that ate at Saeyoung was so overwhelming he could barely breathe. It washed over him like waves on a beach: continuously, some hitting harder than the rest. Having to work for years for an intelligence agency wasn’t appropriate for a fifteen year old. Having to constantly fight to hide his identity and perform illegal work daily wasn’t , either. He hadn’t cared much at first, it didn’t bother him to constantly be hacking into servers to tap into and retrieve data that wasn’t his to touch in the first place. Even the life threatening missions he was sent on could be worse, he thought. The training to resist torture methods was gruesome, but… Anything was better than being thrown back to his mother in a house he couldn’t even call home. You don’t constantly worry about when and if your next meal is coming at home, and certainly not who your mother is taking her drunken rage out on next. 

Looking back on all those years, he felt sick. He knew things had turned out for the better since he was living with Saeran, but he couldn’t shake these thoughts from hounding him once he was alone at his makeshift office where he’d spent hundreds of hours typing away at a keyboard.

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had known Saeran was safe during those long years. Maybe if he didn’t struggle with depression and mood regulation for as long as he could remember. Maybe it would’ve felt better knowing those hours of his life spent praying for his other half’s safety and happiness weren’t completely wasted. Maybe if he said no to V’s offer, if he had just run away with Saeran, if if if. 

It was debilitating, the weight of his actions.

Saeyoung worried his lip with his teeth, biting at the already raw skin. Another strong surge of guilt hits him, coursing through his veins like it had a right to be there. His chest aches, heavy from crushing guilt. He folds his hands on the desk in front of him, eyes unfocusing on the computer monitor. He was just here to look over some old algorithms he created for the agency; he hadn’t expected thoughts like this to surface so suddenly.

He runs a hand through his mop of red hair, grimacing at how greasy it felt. He hadn’t showered in days again, maybe even a week. He already lost track. Hadn’t eaten in quite some time, either. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not with how these thoughts were crushing him more and more by the minute. His hands trembled, and he laughed breathlessly. _Pathetic. Useless. Waste of space. You’ve fucked up enough. End it already._

Saeyoung gritted his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this. He had a great life now, was likely financially stable for the rest of his life, and he was even reunited with his twin. What was the matter? _I’m so ungrateful, haha. Can’t even be happy ten minutes._ He took off his glasses, slowly and shakily setting them to the side. He folded his arms and laid his head down on the desk. It hurt so much. 

He was happy before, he genuinely was. It just so happened that he couldn’t shake himself from the guilt that kept resurfacing to torture him. He could barely help Saeran when they were kids. He promised to help him, promised he’d be safe with Rika and V. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair for Saeran, most of all. _So ungrateful. You know he had it so much worse. He still thinks you just left him with Mom. You don't even know everything Rika did to him. You of all people should know that not all abuse leaves physical scars._

Saeyoung choked on his shallow breaths, his throat tight. He shook his head as he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t the type to cry when faced with awful thoughts like this. He tried to tell himself that, but he still couldn’t help hiccuping with short breaths. He figured he could just go back to isolating himself. It's the only way he knew how to deal with thoughts like this. Just hide in his room to be miserable alone, spare anyone the time of worrying about him when he fails to put up a happy front. It hurt too much to even pretend like anything was okay.

He’d do anything to stop this. 

An awful thought briefly crossed his mind. He knew he wouldn’t do more than ponder about dying, wouldn’t do that to Saeran, or the RFA. He figures it couldn’t hurt to...think about it. He still had a few guns around the house somewhere. He shoved himself back from the desk, his pale face stained with tears and a bit of snot. He rubbed his sweatshirt sleeve against his face, trying to mop up the mess. Fucking gross. Just stop. I hate this so much.. I hate myself. Can’t do anything right. Can’t even be happy, even when everything’s fine now. He gritted his teeth as he rummaged through a few drawers, stopping when he found an item of interest.

It wasn’t a gun, but he managed to stumble across pocket knife. His expression was pained, turning over the item in his hand. His shoulders shook with his uneven breaths, blinking a few times to be able to see clearer. He flipped the blade out, pressing his thumb against the sharp edge to test it. It hurt for a brief moment, the pain dulled by the heavy, crushing weight of guilt. _Not nearly as bad as what Mom did. Not nearly as bad as anything that happened to Saeran. Not even close to how much everything else hurts._

Refusing to give it any more thought lest he change his mind, he pushed up his sweatshirt sleeve to bare his arm. Much older scars littered the expanse of his arm. This wasn’t the first time, by far. He ran his thumb against the blade once more before lightly dragging the sharp tip across the skin of his forearm, as if testing the waters. Nothing. He tried it a few more times before applying more pressure. He hissed as one of them finally stung, blood beading unevenly along the cut. He absentmindedly watched the blood push up through his skin, decorating the expanse of his skin’s canvas in red. He pushed up his other sleeve to continue his work on the other arm.

As he took the knife in his other hand, he finally felt the other cuts begin to sting. He ignored the sharp pain in favor of pressing the knife to the other arm. His thoughts finally quieted down as he worked, dragging the knife in the same direction across the soft flesh of his forearm. Over and over and over. He sighed heavily, pressing harder once more, craving that sharp and heavy sting. His breath hitched, pausing before dragging the blade the rest of the way. It was actually beginning to hurt, pressing the blade deep like this. Just a little harder, just a little deeper. He wanted results now, wanted to see those deep red stripes contrast against his pale skin. He wasn’t concerned about having to hide these later, mopping up the mess or anything of the sort.

He wasn't concerned until he heard the doorknob to his room jiggle.

“Saeyoung?”

His heart stopped at the sound of his brother’s voice. His gaze flicked over his arms quickly, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. He threw the knife haphazardly into the drawer and slammed it shut, not bothering to clean the blood off of it. He tried to pull a sleeve down over his arm, grimacing at how bad the fabric stung the fresh cuts. That won’t work, he’s not risking infection with whatever godawful stains and substances he has on his disgusting hoodie. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard, trying to figure out how exactly to handle this.

“We’re out of lucky charms.” 

Saeyoung would’ve laughed at the absurdity of that if he wasn’t in his current predicament. With a huff, he got to his feet and opened the door for his brother, making sure to keep his arms behind his back and his cuts out of sight. God, they were starting to sting. Saeran actually seemed a bit surprised at the sunken, unhappy expression on Saeyoung’s face. “You’re gonna get sick if you don’t stop eating nothing but junk food.”

“You’re one to talk, all you eat are those chips and soda.” Right. He had a point. He’s a hypocrite. Without thinking, Saeyoung brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He must’ve been standing there unresponsive for a few moments before he heard Saeran’s voice again. “Hey. Saeyoung? Answer me. What happened to your arms?”

Saeran’s insistent questioning shocked Saeyoung back to reality. He met Saeran’s questioning gaze for a short moment before turning to grab a pair of keys off his desk. “We’ll get you more cereal, don’t worry about it.” He was about to head out, avoiding his brother’s gaze, before Saeran blocked the doorway. Saeyoung bit the inside of his cheek, harder this time, mentally cursing himself out for being so careless.

It was pathetic enough to stoop so low and self harm in the first place, but to let his twin see too? He had better things to be worrying about. Like cereal. Not really, but Saeyoung just didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t even have the courage to meet his brother’s eyes, staring past him and furrowing his eyebrows. “I said don’t worry about it.”

Saeran furrowed his eyebrows as well, his frustrated expression much like Saeyoung’s. Saeyoung had done so much for him lately, so much since he had left Mint Eye. Saeran felt a bit of responsibility to help take care of his brother, much like he had done for him. Normally he wouldn’t care in the slightest if it was anyone else; he just wanted his cereal. However, he actually cared for Saeyoung’s wellbeing. He still struggled with his own depression, with borderline personality disorder and whatnot, but he was well on the road to recovery and forgiving his brother. He pushed aside the derailing train of thought to push Saeyoung back in the room, causing him to stumble. Before Saeyoung could ask what he was doing, Saeran grabbed one of his arms from behind him so he could get a good look at the wounds.

“S-stop, that hurts! I told you not to worry about it. It’s none of your business.” Saeran ignored his twin’s pleas to leave him alone, but was careful to not touch his wounds. Many were bleeding, the blood dripping out and rolling down the sides of his arm. He resisted the curious urge to drag his fingers over the ridges created by what could only be assumed to be a knife. Hopefully nothing unsanitary. Saeyoung looked very uncomfortable, still refusing to even look Saeran in the face. Saeran could feel his pulse hammering from where he was holding his hand. 

“Are you stupid?” Saeyoung was taken aback by his twin’s sudden comment, finally looking Saeran in the eyes. “You don’t want these infected. We need to take care of this. It looks like it hurts.”

“We? No-- no. Just leave me alone, it’s fine.”

“Is it really fine?” Saeran pressed his thumb against one of the bleeding cuts near his wrist, clearly irritated at the lack of cooperation. Saeyoung yelped and attempted to pull back his arm, but to no avail. His brother’s grip was firm and he wasn’t putting up with Saeyoung’s bullshit today. “It isn’t.” 

Saeyoung didn’t have the guts to meet his brother’s eyes after that; he was right. Without another word, Saeran tugged him along to the bathroom. Saeyoung reluctantly followed, not given much of a choice. 

After a quick trip across the house, Saeran pushed his brother to make him sit on the bathroom counter. Saeyoung had opened his mouth to ask what exactly was going on, but decided against arguing. He merely slouched, folding his hands in his lap as he watched Saeran pace around and gather things to help remedy his brother’s cuts. To any other person Saeran would’ve seemed royally pissed and annoyed, but Saeyoung knew it was out of concern. His heart ached for a different reason this time.

“Hold still,” Saeran commanded, forcing Saeyoung to bare his arms so he could press a damp cloth to the cuts. He actually yelped softly in pain, biting his cheek to stifle any other pathetic sounds. Maybe he really did cut too deep; this hurt like hell. Nonetheless, he allowed Saeran to work, clearing the excess blood away and applying gentle pressure on the wounds. Saeyoung sat in silence, closing his eyes to try and keep his mind off of what was happening. It was a bit too much.

After Saeran finally finished mopping up the blood seeping from his cuts, he left to begin rummaging through one of the cabinets in the bathroom for something to further help. Saeyoung focused on the floor, his expression blank but weary with sleep deprivation. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he finally spoke, causing Saeran to pull his head from the cabinet and narrow his eyes at him. Saeyoung would’ve felt a bit intimidated by his expression if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with everything already.

“Were you going to take care of those cuts properly? Or were you just going to let them get infected?” Saeran verbally jabbed, turning back to the task at hand. He spoke without turning to look at his brother. “I know you, Saeyoung. Don’t pretend like I don’t, and don’t pretend like you wouldn’t have just let yourself bleed out if I wasn’t here.”

Saeran’s words cut deeper than the actual wounds on Saeyoung’s arms. The truth really did hurt. It wouldn’t have hurt as much if it weren’t his own flesh and blood speaking to him like this. Saeran was always blunt; he didn’t sugarcoat his words (unlike everything he ate). He slammed the cabinet doors shut, causing Saeyoung to jump a bit in surprise. Saeyoung was very stiff, holding his arms close to his chest. He was still reluctant to let Saeran just bandage him back up like this. 

“Hey. I'm talking to you. Give me your arms.” Right, Saeran was helping him. Saeyoung stared off past Saeran at the tiled floor as he surrendered his arms and allowed Saeran to work in silence. The only sound between them was the occasional hiss from the older brother as the younger applied antibiotic cream and bandages. 

The best thing that’s come out of this so far is that Saeyoung’s mind is wonderfully blank. Relapsing may have been one of the best decisions he’s made this week. Either that, or his lack of sleep has caught up to him and he’s too exhausted to mentally beat himself up anymore. Just as he was starting to enjoy the silence between them, Saeran pipes up again. 

“Quit ignoring me. I’m done.” Saeyoung raises his eyebrows, finally taking a look at his arms. Despite the thick layer of ace bandages over the expanse of his forearms, blood was still continuing to seep through. “The bleeding looked like it stopped… Tell me if it keeps up. Okay?” Saeran pesters for an answer, the few seconds of silence after his question finally making Saeyoung look up. The younger twin’s annoyed expression drops when he sees the lack of any shine in Saeyoung’s eyes. 

His voice is softer this time, quiet with underlying compassion. “Hey… What made you want to do this? I know our minds are just, like that sometimes, but--”

 

“I’m a shitty excuse for a brother.”

 

Saeran was taken aback by how fast his answer was, considering how slow he’s been to react otherwise. That actually sent a pang of guilt straight to his heart. Saeyoung had done nothing but show him kindness since he brought him home. Well, to be technical, Saeyoung pretty much kidnapped Saeran, but the latter isn’t bothered by it so much anymore. What’s important right now to Saeran is how unconditional Saeyoung’s love is towards his twin, but not himself. Saeran wishes he could’ve had this realization at some other point instead of now, but it’s better now than never. 

“Stop it. The first thing you need to do is realize that’s not true.” That at least gets Saeyoung’s attention. The older twin meets Saeran’s gaze again, with just a subtle hint of curiosity. Good. “You… You’ve done nothing but dote over me and take care of me since I’ve been here. Even though it was against my will, even though I’ve tried choking you in the not sexy way--” that gets a wide eyed look with raised eyebrows, “...you still never gave up on me.” Saeyoung knows this all to be true, but his mind just can’t shake the fact that he’s completely awful in every possible way--

“Someone who’s a shitty brother wouldn’t leave me sweets around the house with cutesy little doodles of us on sticky notes. They wouldn’t drive me to all my therapy and counseling appointments and… love me no matter how many times I push you away. I used to not really understand why you felt that way towards someone like me, but… I appreciate it more than ever now. And I think I’m starting to get it.” Without giving himself time to regret his decision, Saeran throws his arms over his brother’s shoulders and pulls him into a loose hug. 

Saeyoung jumps a little bit when his brother hugs him so suddenly. He’s about as used to hugs as Saeran at this point, so it’s normal to take him a bit by surprise. Despite this, he feels his shoulders relax for what feels like the first time in weeks, and a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. It starkly contrasts the feeling of despair and hopelessness from earlier, almost giving him whiplash. He belatedly reacts, ever so carefully wrapping his injured arms around his brother.

It’s the first thing in weeks that’s felt… _right._

Tears well up in Saeyoung’s eyes for a different reason this time as he holds Saeran as tightly as he can manage. He nuzzles into his brother’s neck as he begins to tremble again. Saeyoung wants to explain to his brother how it feels like being connected with his other half after so much pain and suffering, but he’s certain Saeran knows. 

“You’ll be okay. We’ve made it this far.”


End file.
